


How He Saved Me

by AnnieTheLionheart



Series: Stubborn Love [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Highschool, F/M, Fluff, House Party, Humour, Mild Language, Past life, Reincarnation, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieTheLionheart/pseuds/AnnieTheLionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sasha moves towns and enters a new school, where she meets the biggest idiot in history</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Click here for Connie's POV  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1123333/chapters/2264270

My name is Sasha Braus, and this is the story of myself and Connie Springer. It’s the story of how my life intertwined with the single stupidest idiot in the history of the world. And maybe he is a complete dork, but I fell for him nonetheless.

 

So, this? This is the story of how I opened up my heart to him.

   
  
* * *

 

 

 

When I turned 15, my parents moved towns, halfway across the country, in fact. Both my mother and my father were police officers, and most often worked the night shift. I had grown up spending daytime at school and making my own meals most of the time, learning to be very independent. It’s not that I minded, since it’s all I had really known, but when they transferred to a new station in a place unfamiliar to me, it was still really stressful.

 

We moved in August, giving us a few weeks to settle in before I started school on September 2nd. I was nervous, honestly. I had never been fantastic at making friends, probably because of my overly quirky personality, and the thought of starting afresh terrified me. It wasn’t like I was leaving much behind, though.

 

Another reason people probably struggled to get along with me was... well... the panic attacks. When I was really young, I struggled with nightmares and terrifying visions that haunted me wherever I went. The other kids thought I was weird, because I found myself saying inappropriate, dark things sometimes. My parents blamed it on my exposure to their sometimes violent work.

 

The worst part was that they were vivid. Extremely vivid. I could picture every part of it clearly, and pick out the tiniest details on the faces of the people around me. When the panic attacks were at their worst, tiny incidents would scare me. For example, one loud noise as somebody slammed a door would result in me crying and trembling for hours on end.

 

Anyway, I have rambled on about my life for quite some time now. Time to get on with the real story.

   
  
 

* * *

 

 

September 2nd. Come morning, I was forced out into the freezing autumn air, tainted with the chill of the advancing winter. The new school was pretty huge, and I honestly did not look forward to navigating the labyrinth of corridors, despite my many visits to settle me into the school.

 

I was pushed through the eerie black gates signifying the entrance to Hell by the constant, swelling tide of students gathered into small cliques. Childish laughter and an array of varying voices bounced back and forth through the sea of people all around me. Used to being alone, I was not at all intimidated by the chaos. I simply kept my earphones pressed deep into my ears, stepping over the dull tarmac with a bland expression.

 

As I walked closer to the main building, unable to ignore the rising feeling of anxiety in my stomach, the shrill sound of the school bell sliced through the air all around campus. I stifled a groan and glanced about rather nervously, unsure about where to go.

 

Panic built within me, bringing with it an uncomfortable lump in my throat. I swallowed, swinging my bag off my shoulder and attempting to keep it up on one knee while I rummaged through the rather empty interior. My fingers clasped the edge of the timetable I had been given, on the back of which was a map of the school. Under my breath, I muttered to myself as I attempted to decipher the complicated table. I repeated the room number over to myself multiple times before consulting the map.

 

The swarm of students was slowly melting away into the various buildings, leaving me alone in the cold. Soon, there would be nobody left for me to ask. Hurriedly, I ran a finger over the maze of corridors drawn out on the paper, turning my map this way and that. Orienteering had never been my forte.

 

Slowly, I managed to convince myself that I had successfully created my planned route. With the map firmly implanted in my brain, or at least as firmly as it could be, I tucked the map away, zipped up my bag, and made way for the science block.

 

Open doors along the corridors allowed the chattering sounds of reunited students to float out, along with the booming voices of various teachers ordering them to quieten down. One of the doors emitted a chorus with volume above the rest. It also possessed the distinct lack of a teacher’s voice. Inwardly, I prayed that this was not my registration room. _Please, no_.

 

Unfortunately, the number on the door revealed to me that it was in fact my registration room. I exhaled a long breath, before balling my fists determinedly and stepping into the room.

 

I had met the teacher, Miss Zoe, once before during my introduction to the school. As far as I could tell, she was absolutely insane. Her bubbly personality was shockingly over-the-top, and she seemed startlingly abrupt in the way she spoke. But I liked her. I saw her stood at the front of the room, scrawling on the board. Behind her was a younger man, perhaps in his early twenties, watching her nervously.

 

A choir of voices ricocheted around the toxic-scented room, filling the air and threatening to overwhelm me. My eyes scanned the full room for an empty chair. My pupils rested upon a free spot near the front of the room.

 

I noticed that navigating through the classroom on a bee-line would be impossible, since there was a littering of students, tables, and stools. So, I decided it was best to skirt around the back.

 

Feeling anxious and slightly self-conscious, I lowered my head so that my brunette fringe obscured my eyes. I watched my feet as I walked across the blue, wiry carpet. It didn’t matter to me that I couldn’t see – I was pretty confident that I had memorised my planned route to the empty stool.

 

And that’s why I didn’t expect to crash into anyone.

 

‘Sorry!’ I exclaimed, reacting upon instincts, snapping my head up to look at the face of the obstacle. I lifted my hands up, displaying my palms in a gesture of apology. However, the boy who I had crashed into was not looking back at me. His eyes were wide with terror as he gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles, slowly rocking up onto all four legs of the stool. ‘Close one.’ He muttered almost inaudibly.

 

Then he looked up. I contained a stunned gasp as my tawny eyes flitted over his features. I _recognised_ him. Where from? Who was he? I racked my brains, but could not find an answer within the complicated spider-web of memories. We stared at each other, with his expression showing no signs of recognition, and the longer I stared, the stronger the sense of familiarity became. The tense silence lasted a few seconds (though it seemed like an age), the racing beat of my pulse resounding in both my ears and the space in between us. His eyes swept every inch of me, and I fought to suppress the blush rising in my cheeks.

 

‘Sorry.’ I muttered again, furiously cursing myself for maintaining the silence so long. He still seemed achingly familiar to me. My curiosity was destroying me from the inside out. Every feature: his bald scalp and larger-than life grin. Especially his tawny eyes, the same colour as an owls wings, possessing the same hues as burnished gold. It was as though I had stared into them a thousand times before.

 

‘No, it’s my fault,’ he replied calmly, budging his stool further under the desk to allow me room to pass. I hurried past, horrendously aware of his eyes boring into my back as I walked away. For some reason, I felt as though somebody was talking about me. But I was probably just being paranoid.

 

The most pressing matter on my mind was why I recognised that boy.

 

I slid onto the stool, swinging my bag under the table. Uncomfortable, I glanced around the classroom at the various huddles of people.

 

‘Good morning class,’ Miss Zoe greeted enthusiastically, whirling around from the whiteboard. ‘Great to see you all back.’ Her energy was clearly uncontainable, and obviously she wished to continue experimenting with the various chemicals lined on the shelves rather than talk to us all about the upcoming school year.

With the flourish of a magician’s assistant, she waved a hand toward the young man in the stool beside her. ‘I have a new teaching assistant joining me this year. His name is Moblit Berner. Call him Moblit, just as you should call me Hanji.’

I noticed that Moblit shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

 

Hanji then pointed a finger at me, and I squirmed under the relentless gazes of the other students.

‘Also, a new student will be joining us. Her name is Sasha Braus.’

I suppressed the flush rising in my face and glanced down at my feet for a brief second before attempting to smile warmly at the audience.

 

 _Crash_. The thirty-or-so pairs of eyes spun toward the back of the room. Beneath the wooden desks and through the legs propping up the tables, I could see the boy whom I had crashed into laying on the floor. His limbs were tangled around the legs of the stool, which was resting on top of him.

 

As one, the entire class erupted into a crescendo of laughter. Even Miss Zoe was in hysterics, clutching her stomach as she doubled over. Moblit seemed ever-the-more concerned, hovering slightly off his stool as he debated whether to go and tend to the boy.

 

The boy leapt up to his feet and held his arms up in the air, ‘I’m alive!’ He declared. I noticed that his cheek was red where it had scraped against the carpet. Whoever he was, he was clearly a gigantic dork. I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand. His eyes rested upon me again, and for a moment I felt bad about laughing. Once again, a blush rose in my cheeks, and I found myself questioning his identity.

   
  
* * *

 

 

 

Probably the next important occurrence was the assembly, which was where I met Jean and Marco.

           

I had struggled my way through the crowded corridors and stumbled into the assembly hall, sitting down rather ungracefully in the first empty seat I could find. A tall boy with a slim figure and bony features slid his backpack off his shoulders and sat in the seat beside me.

           

He initially took no notice of my presence, instead turning to the stockier boy beside him. Tall, broad-shouldered, square jaw, short dark hair parted down the centre, and dark eyes. A dusting of freckles brushed across his skin.

 

‘How the hell am I supposed to ask out somebody like _her_?’ The tan-haired boy asked. His friend shrugged, ‘Who knows? You just gotta do it.’

‘But... But...’ He seemed frustrated, furrowing his brow into a scowl.

 

Then, he turned to me, ‘What do you think?’

‘W-what?’ I was startled by the question, placed on the spot by two strangers. The boy drew in a long breath, ‘If you were me, and you had a crush on a girl way out of your league, could you ask her out?’

‘Well I’m sorry to say that I have never asked a girl out.’ I replied, smiling. He laughed a little, ‘That’s not what I meant.’

 

‘I’m Jean, by the way,’ he introduced himself finally, ‘And this is Marco.’

His friend waved at me a little from behind. I shot them both a friendly smile.

 

Jean turned and pointed to a girl who had just entered the assembly hall. She had delicate oriental features and silky black hair that cascaded down to her shoulders. A red scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck, covering her school tie. ‘See that girl over there? Her name’s Mikasa. And I kinda like her.’

‘“Kinda like her”?!’ Marco exclaimed, ‘You’re in _love_ wi–’

Jean clamped a hand over his mouth, huffing in exasperation, ‘Shut up.’

 

I laughed as I watched the two of them. Jean, rolling his hazel eyes, turned back to me, ‘As I was saying before I was interrupted by this idiot, do you think she’s out of my league?’

‘No.’ I said, shaking my head and scanning Jean’s attractive features. He sighed with relief, ‘Oh okay. Thank you.’

‘I’m only going on appearances, though.’

 

There was another problem with this situation. As I looked more closely at the appearances of both boys, they also felt _achingly_ familiar. I knew them. I had to have seen them before. Well, I was fairly sure that Jean had been sat with the boy back in the registration classroom. But where had I seen Marco? Had it been in the same class?

 

Just as I was questioning my sanity, the Headteacher entered and began his lecture right then, his strong voice ricocheting off the walls of the crowded room. From what I could tell, Mr Erwin Smith was a well-respected and pretty cool Headteacher. I pushed the thoughts of all familiarity aside, and allowed myself to focus on his words, no matter how boring they were.

   
  
* * *

 

 

 

I soon discovered that the boy whom I had crashed into on the first day was in a few of my classes. Most memorable was Home Economics.

 

The teacher for that lesson was Mr Rivaille. I noticed that a few of the girls in my class seemed to swoon over his looks, and even I myself found him stunningly attractive, but his personality was overly blunt and his obsession with cleaning was purely irritating.

 

My lessons were brightened by the fact that I severely enjoyed cooking. Since my parents worked nights so often, I usually had to cook for myself. Never one to enjoy bland microwavable food, I had quickly learned to whip up dishes from around the world, and took pride in cooking delicious meals for one.

 

Another perk was watching the boy, whose name I learned was Connie, burn almost every meal he made. Mr Rivaille clearly despised him for all the pranks he pulled and all the things he did wrong. But he never failed to make me smile when he tripped over a table leg and spilled cake mixture all over the floor.

 

So, a month went by with the same old boring routine. I would wake up and drag myself to school just in time for lessons, and mostly sit alone to actually complete my work. At break times I would stick my headphones in and usually scroll Tumblr for a while, and at lunch I sometimes found myself sitting with a few girls from my registration: Ymir, Christa and Mikasa. I learned that Mikasa was very blunt and rather emotionless, and perhaps Jean could even do better. It was often awkward sat with them. Mikasa often disappeared to spend time with her male friends, whilst Ymir and Christa (being a couple) were always cuddled up in a corner. However, I managed. After school I would do my homework and make my own meals before playing video games or drawing for hours on end. Home economics was certainly the highlight of my week.

 

One day in October, I actually spoke to Connie. For the first time, I decided that the pain of not knowing where I recognised him from was too much.

 

For the first hour and a half of the double lesson, my attention was turned to the pie I was baking. Apple pie, for my dessert later that evening. I had made plenty of pies before, and so the task was incredibly simple for me. I shaped some of the spare pastry into leaves to garnish the creation. I even added a soft dusting of sugar to make it a little sweeter. It looked delicious, if I do say so myself, and I couldn’t wait to tuck in. My stomach growled in anticipation.

 

Despite having my back to him, I was aware that Connie was watching me. Or rather, watching the pie. I hurriedly dumped some pots in the sink and then began to approach him. _Should I ask him if we’ve met before? What if he thinks I’m weird?_

 

Beside him, I saw Jean adding the finishing touches to a lemon tart. I could tell that he was agitated because Connie wasn’t listening to him. Rolling his narrow eyes, he scooped his tart up off the desk and walked over to Marco.

 

As I drew closer, I noticed that he was practically drooling as he gazed longingly at the apple pie on my desk. ‘You look hungry,’ I remarked.

He jumped in fright. When he turned to me, he had the same look in his eyes that a deer has when it’s being hunted. As he realised it was only an ordinary human, he relaxed. ‘What? Oh... umm... yeah.’

His reaction was slightly amusing to me, since he seemed shocked and confused and outright bewildered. My mouth twitched as I contained a laugh.

 

A tense silence filled the air between us as neither knew what to say. Eventually, I found the words I wanted to say, ‘I’m Sasha Braus.’ _If he recognises me, then he’ll say_.

‘Springer. Connie Springer.’ He replied. _So I don’t know him, then..._ I brushed the thought aside, ‘As in Bond, James Bond?’

‘Yes. Exactly, actually.’

I began to giggle girlishly, half irritated by my own childish reaction. He seemed surprised that I had laughed, and immediately I fell silent.

 

The awkwardness enveloped us again, and we both searched for words. _Think, think, think._ I had started this conversation now, and it would be stupid not to continue. I glanced around the room in desperate hope of a conversation starter.

My eyes fell upon the pie.

 

‘So, errm, there is no way I’m gonna be able to eat that whole pie by myself. I am gonna need some serious help.’ I hated myself for saying that. I was burning with embarrassment; it must’ve sounded awful.

‘I happen to be an expert in that area.’ Connie raised his eyebrows, ‘What flavour?’

‘Apple.’

‘Even better.’ He set off in the direction of the pie. I began to panic slightly, and reached out to grab his wrist before thinking. My fingers enclosed around his skin, and when he turned to me with a confused expression, I hurriedly pulled away. ‘You can’t eat it yet. It hasn’t cooled.’

‘Heat is not an issue. I will brave it if you just give me the pie.’

I started to giggle again. I was right. This guy was total dork, but in a cute kinda way.

 

‘Okay, how about you join me at lunch and we’ll both eat it.’ I suggested. _Did I just ask him out?_ I smiled weakly, disbelieving of my spontaneous idiocy.

‘Yeah, sounds great.’ He answered casually. I was relieved – he didn’t seem to think I was _completely_ weird. Yet.

   
  
 

* * *

 

 

Connie was absolutely hilarious, and had me in stitches for most of the lunch hour. My stomach was hurting from how much I was laughing. However, it was still nagging me at the back of my brain that I recognised him.

 

Usually, I was the one devouring tremendous amounts of food, but this time Connie was the person wolfing it all down. I ate remarkably less than him. God, he must’ve been hungry to eat that much. He seemed to enjoy it, though, and I was thankful.

 

After finishing my serving, I rested my chin on interlaced fingers and smiled amusedly as he continued to help himself. I scrutinised his face, desperately searching for a memory I could pin him to. But there was nothing. Although, I did feel at ease around him already, despite the fact that we had only been talking for just less than an hour.

 

‘I am going to marry this pie,’ he enthused, words muffled by apple and pastry. I laughed, raising my eyebrows, ‘Wow, that’s extreme.’

‘No. No it isn’t. You’re wrong in so many ways.’

 

I silenced myself, cocking my head as I realised something.

‘What?’ He asked, clearly self-conscious under my stare.

‘You look like Aang.’ I answered casually, referring to the show  _‘The Last Airbender.’_ Could that be where I recognised him from? If so, it was ridiculous to pin an actual person to an animated character.

‘Wait, what?’ He said, gulping and stuttering before almost choking on his mouthful.

‘You know, from Avatar: The Last Airbender.’

‘Yeah I got the reference,’ he was unable to stifle a laugh. I was thankful, really. Glad that he could accept my teasing comments on his likeness to fictional people.

 

‘See, I told you!’ Somebody called. Both of us turned to see a dark-haired boy approaching the table. His hair was tousled slightly as hung over his tanned face, barely reaching his eyebrows that stood above large, turquoise eyes.

 

The newcomer rested his palms flat on the table, glaring at Connie and ignoring me, ‘I told you that you looked like Aang and you didn’t believe me.’

‘It’s not that I didn’t believe you it’s–’

He turned his attention to me then, almost pretending Connie was no longer there. ‘Hi, I’m Eren.’ He gave me a dazzling smile.

 

Unfortunately, he chose that moment to waggle his eyebrows suggestively at Connie, nodding back in my direction. I lowered my shoulders in discomfort, though thankfully neither boy noticed since they were already engaging in a threatening staring competition.

 

Connie’s amber eyes darkened as he glared at Eren. The dark-haired boy eventually let out a sombre sigh, ‘Well, I guess I’d better go. Connie is kicking me out again.’ Rather dramatically, he turned on his tiptoes and strode away.

 

I tracked his footsteps as he left, ‘Friend of yours?’

‘Unfortunately,’ Connie growled.

‘He seems... um... interesting.’

‘That’s one way of describing him.’

 

The bell rang out. I groaned inwardly. Seemed like my time with Connie was up. Unwilling to leave, I banged my forehead on the table. It hurt more than I cared to admit. ‘I don’t wanna go,’ I complained.

‘Me neither, but we have to go.’

 

Reluctantly, I stood up and flicked my fringe out of my eyes. Carefully, I set the pie back in its carrier and fastened the airtight lid on. I could feel Connie watching me, but he said nothing. For a moment I wondered whether he recognised me, too.

 

‘Hey, Sasha? Would you mind if I asked for your number?’

My heart slammed into my throat. I had to think for a moment before the word could fall out of my mouth, ‘Sure.’

 

We exchanged numbers there and then. I saved his number under the name _Aang,_ smiling to myself as I did so.

 

Connie left the room first, leaving me to smile uncontrollably.

‘Congrats, chick.’ Ymir slapped me on the back unexpectedly. I smiled up at the tall girl, ‘Um, thanks.’

   
  
* * *

 

 

 

Hauling myself out of bed in the morning was a mega effort, despite the abundance of sleep I had managed to gain the previous night.

 

I made myself a delicious omelette for breakfast, slipped into my uniform and began loading my bag with belongings. In my head, I recited the books and utensils I would need for that day.

 

 _Crap_. I hadn’t done the science homework. I had intended to do the homework the night before, but had unfortunately been distracted by thoughts of Connie and the pie and the lunch. _Dammit_.

 

Cursing inwardly, I mentally listed the students in my science class. It was usually a lesson in which I sat alone at the back and actually did my work. Or I laughed at Miss Zoe whilst she mixed up cocktails of fizzing chemicals.

 

 _Connie!_ Connie was in my science class. How could I forget?

 

I attempted to dart over to my desk, but clumsily tripped over my bag that was resting on the floor. I let out a small squeak as I clattered to the floor, right at the foot of my desk. Groaning in pain, I reached up and groped along the desk’s surface until I located the oblong shape of my phone.

 

**_From: Sasha_ **

**_Quick I need help, Aang. Tell me you did the science homework._ **

For a moment, I waited in silent anticipation, perched on the edge of the bed whilst rubbing at the injuries I sustained during my fall.

 

**_From: Connie_ **

**_Aww, cute, you actually think I do homework :)_ **

****

_Did he just call me “cute”? Play it cool, Sash._

 

**_From: Sasha_ **

**_Don’t call me cute you idiot I need that homework!!!_ **

****

**_From: Connie_ **

**_Alright jeez don’t get violent. I can’t help you. But we both have Miss Zoe this year and trust me she does not care. As long as she gets to blow shit up she’s happy._ **

****

**_From: Sasha_ **

**_God I hope so, but just in case... I need help studying._ **

Really, that was just my way of trying to spend more time with him. I hoped he said yes, but I failed to console myself as I sent the text. His response took longer than usual.

 

**_From: Connie_ **

**_Okay. My parents are going out tonight so I can help you if you come round to my house._ **

 

_Tonight?!?!?!?!?!_

 

**_From: Sasha_ **

**Thank you!!! You are a lifesaver. Also, please teach me your waterbending skills.**

****

**_From: Connie_ **

**_I work best as an airbender, actually._ **


	2. Grave Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scary movies, pizza, and a power cut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click here for Connie's POV  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1123333/chapters/2390723

The cold day was long and boring. It lacked any degree of drama or excitement, meaning that I was left staring at a clock all day long.

 

I spent most of my time worrying about going over to Connie’s house, much to the amusement of Ymir and Christa. Ymir was telling me to relax, whilst throwing in the occasional sarcastic remark that would once again put me in a place of unease. Christa gave me soft, soothing tones and told me that it would be fine. Bluntly, Ymir asked if I had a crush on Connie. Although I was fairly certain that my answer was “no,” I still stuttered on the word and found myself blushing.

 

Even Mikasa had noticed that I was distracted all day, rolling her eyes at me and tossing a snarky comment in my direction. I scowled and sulked for a few moments, growing increasingly worried as the day wore on.

 

Eventually, the bell rang to signal the end of school. _Thank God_. It was over. I could go home.  My next worry was outfits. Despite being fairly sure about my lack of attraction to Connie, I still felt I had to make an impression on my potential friend.

 

I spent quite a while in my house tearing clothes out of the wardrobe, trying on this and that and tossing all the discarded items over the floor in a large heap. I could find nothing. Of course, I didn’t want to be too dressed up, but I didn’t want to look like a total slob, either.

 

In the end, I settled on a pair of skinny jeans and a slightly slouchy jumper. It wasn’t at all perfect, but I was running out of time. I left my hair as it was, yanked up into a pony-tail, and began to stroll out of the house.

 

My stomach gave a harsh, long growl. I looked down at it in dismay, then glanced at my phone. 3:55. I was already late. Surely my hunger was more important, right?

 

With my hunger came mouth-watering mental images of foods both sweet and savoury. Yum. I could have really used a pizza. _Pizza_. It was then that it occurred to me to pick up a pizza on the way to Connie’s. Surely he would like pizza. Who doesn’t like pizza?

 

I dived out of the cold and darted into the dry warmth of a pizza parlour. The shiny metal counter reflected the flickering light from above, absorbing the heat from the ovens in the kitchen. I rested my palms against it, savouring the heat, as I ordered a large pepperoni pizza. The plump woman behind the counter told me that they were having a slow day, and my pizza would take a few minutes. I told her it was okay, though inside I cursed my luck: I was going to be so late.

 

As time went on, I grew increasingly agitated, tapping my foot impatiently on the floor. I made a weak attempt to distract myself by listening to the faint music playing throughout the parlour, though really all my attention was turned to the clock, tracking the ticking of the minute, often ignored, second hand.

 

Eventually, after an agonisingly drawn-out seven minutes, I took the box placed on the surface and made my way hurriedly out of the door, tossing some notes on the counter on my way.

 

I held the box in both hands, clutching at it like it was worth its weight in gold. It might as well have been to me, with my growling stomach.

 

I walked as fast as I could, blindly making my way toward Connie’s house. I didn’t _really_ know where I was going, but I could just about decipher the directions he had given to me. His house wasn’t hard to find, thankfully.

 

It was 4:15 by the time I rang the doorbell. I listened intently, detesting the awkward seconds spent waiting for somebody to answer. I heard a few repeated bangs from inside, and briefly wondered if somebody had fallen down the stairs.

 

The sound of the latch scraping against its lock caught my attention. I drummed my thumbs absent-mindedly on top of the pizza box, with the grease beginning to leak through the cardboard in damp splotches.

 

Connie’s face appeared at the door. I felt his eyes sweeping over me, and did my best not to shuffle uncomfortably. _Do I look okay?_ I did my best to smile, holding up the box, ‘Sorry I’m late. I brought pizza.’

 

Connie narrowed his eyes at me, ‘What kind of pizza?’

For a split second, I struggled to remember, ‘Pepperoni.’

‘In that case, you may come in.’ He stepped aside and allowed me to enter.

 

My gaze swept around the entrance, with a kitchen off to the left and a corridor to the right. The kitchen possessed a modern decor, with pale marble countertops and a white tiled floor, complete with glimmering chrome appliances. From what I could tell, Connie’s family were settled comfortably into the middle class, with enough money to decorate their house however they desired, but not quite enough to purchase a grand country house.

 

‘Nice place.’ I remarked, desperate to break the silence. Connie almost looked as though he was about to say something, but withheld. I looked over at him expectantly, hoping he would do or say something else.

 

‘Oh... yeah... Let’s go upstairs and watch a movie or something.’ He suggested, taking off in the direction of the staircase.

‘Ooh, what kind of movie?’ I inquired in wondering.

‘The scary kind.’

‘Yay! I love scary movies!’ I cheered. Truth was, I was terrified of scary movies. But I still enjoyed watching them: there was something thrilling about scaring myself silly with something that wasn’t my panic attacks.

‘Great.’ Connie briefly raised an eyebrow and grimaced.

 

His bedroom was at the top of the staircase and slightly to the right. I glanced around. It was simple enough, neither too big nor too small. The walls were white in coloration, and the floor was laminated wood. There was a wooden desk pushed up against the wall, topped with a PC Monitor and littered with uncompleted homework sheets. The floor, however, was miraculously tidy and the sky blue bed sheets were neatly straightened out. I was surprised. In my imagination, Connie would certainly not keep _anything_ tidy.

 

‘ _Wow_.’ I smirked.

‘What?’ Connie was immediately on the defensive.

‘I never took you as the clean type.’

 

As I spoke, I noticed that Connie’s lips curled up into a wry grin, as he gestured toward the wooden wardrobe. ‘Open the closet,’ his voice was challenging, _daring_.

Suspicious, and horrendously intrigued, I delicately slid the pizza box off my palm to rest on the bed. Then, I stepped over to the closet and opened the door.

 

A pile of clothes, presumably dirty, and an assortment of other items tumbled out from the shelves and landed in a mountain at me feet. I laughed, ‘ _There_ it is!’

Connie nodded, seemingly proud of himself, ‘Yeah, now help me shove all that crap back in there.’

 

Although I was not repulsed by all the unclean laundry, I was also not entirely comfortable with handling someone else’s screwed up clothes. So, I politely tried to help him by occasionally throwing the odd item onto the shelf, whilst Connie did most of the work. We worked together in pressing our backs against the closet doors to force it shut. No matter how we tried, the doors continued to open slightly from the sheer weight of all the junk inside.

 

Eventually, we gave up. I sank down on Connie’s bed, delighted by the unexpected cosiness of the mattress. ‘Comfy,’ I thought aloud. I gathered the thick covers up around my folded legs and watched Connie as he dug through a DVD rack beneath his desk.

 

‘So, where are your parents tonight?’ I queried.

‘My dad’s working away, and my mum’s staying at my sister’s tonight to babysit my cousin.’

I processed the information he gave me, taking a couple of seconds to work out the relations of his family. ‘Oh... cool,’ I said finally, without a real response to that.

 

‘What about _your_ mum and dad? Tell me your tragic back story.’ Connie joked.

 _Tragic back story? Well...._ For a moment I debated telling him about my childhood. About the panic attacks and the horror I was put through. And how they still happened and how they’d gotten worse and how I was scared...

‘Not much to tell.’

 

It seems I had made my decision sort of subconsciously, with my racing heart telling me that it was a bad idea to tell him too much about my personal life at this point. ‘I was raised on the other side of this country. Both my parents are police officers, and they usually work the night shift. I practically raised myself. I’m fine with that, though. We moved here at the start of August... and here I am.’

 

Connie’s index finger danced over the DVD cases, rested atop his chosen film, and slid it out from the shelf. ‘I see... Brothers or sisters?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t you get lonely?’

‘All the time.’ I blurted out the words before I could stop myself. I realised that I had to continue, to save my integrity. ‘Especially at night. My house is always really empty and sometimes it’s kind of sad.’ By sad, I meant absolutely terrifying.

 

Connie gazed up at me from the floor, and in his hazel lenses it was apparent that he pitied me. I hated pity. I realised that maybe I should not have said anything at all.

 

‘You could always stay here, if you’d like. My parents wouldn’t mind.’

I noticed immediately how his eyes briefly widened. It was only for a split second, as he weakly attempted to disguise his shock and embarrassment by returning his attention to the DVD cases. He wanted to take it back, I could tell. He didn’t mean to say that. But, I didn’t want him to take it back. I wanted to seek his comfort and maybe if I stayed with someone then I wouldn’t experience another panic attack.

 

‘You sure?’ I asked a fairly neutral question, giving him a chance to take it back and desperately hoping that he didn’t.

‘I...’ He gave me a long pause, ‘Yeah.’

He still wanted to withdraw his offer, ‘If it’s not a problem, then...’

 _Please don’t take it back._ ‘Umm...’

‘It’s just... I do get awfully lonely.’

His face brightened then, and he took on a more confident tone, ‘Well, just ask.’

 

 _Thank God_. I wanted to break into a humungous smile at that point, but forced myself to suppress it. I just craved one night away from the terrifying trembling and crying.

 

Connie pushed the DVD into the player and closed it with a click, starting up the Xbox 360, resting on the floor beside the PC, with the push of a button. It made a faint whirring noise as it started up.

 

I leaned over and took the controller from the desk, working the console and playing the film with ease. Connie clambered onto the bed beside me, stealing the covers to drape them over his own legs. I felt like I needed some form of comfort during the film, so I tilted my weight to reach behind him and take a pillow from the head of the bed.

 

The pillow was plush and cuddle-able. I wrapped both of my arms around it and tucked my knees up, curling into a ball of protection. I was looking forward to the film Connie had chosen, which I could see was Grave Encounters from the discarded case on the floor. However, I was also nervous. My heart was already slightly sped up.

 

Beside me, Connie began to open up the box of pizza. The delicious aroma drifted out and floated around the room. I could feel myself beginning to salivate, and had to wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. He took the first slice and began to devour it, and I was unable to resist the food any longer.

 

The film began with a man sat in an office chair talking about how some weird footage was filmed in a “haunted” insane asylum. _Because who doesn’t love haunted insane asylums?_ After that, a few of the characters were introduced to the movie.

 

There was one girl amongst the cast. And her name was Sasha. I groaned inwardly and furrowed my brows in disdain, ‘Sasha, she’s called Sasha. I bet she dies. I just know it.’ I could feel it in my bones. Of course the girl who shared my name would die. Probably a slow, painful death, too.

 

The first officially scary part was when a wheelchair moved slightly within the camera frame, hinting at the ghostly presence with the asylum. Neither of us jumped, since it was entirely predictable and not at all terrifying, but we only knew it would get worse from there.

 

‘It’s gonna move,’ Connie was muttering repeatedly to himself. I had already predicted this for myself, and so I didn’t need Connie’s running commentary.

‘Shush!’ I whispered, throwing the pillow at his head.

 

As also predicted by me, the ghosts seemed to particularly hate on movie Sasha. They picked on her every chance they got. Although, in their defence, she was an easy target. _Everything_ seemed to scare her. Who in hell is dumb enough to take a ghost-hunting job when they’re that jumpy?

 

At one point, the ghosts or demons or whatever the hell they were decided to play a prank on her. While she slept, they carved the word “ _Hello_ ” into the skin on her back. This scene was incredibly creepy, and if it happened in real life I would most likely cry my eyes out. However, I had seen worse in the visions of my panic attacks, and I found myself giving the ghosts some much-needed credit for their joke.

 

But if I said that to Connie, he would think I was weird as hell. So I faked fear and squeaked, ‘That is _not_ okay!’

‘Hell no.’ Connie agreed darkly, shaking his head.

 

There were some more scary scenes in the film which genuinely made me uneasy and made my heart race. For example, the bathtub scene, in which a bathtub suddenly filled with blood where a girl had supposedly slit her wrists. In a few moments of chaos, the room was drenched in blood and one of the characters disappeared. If that isn’t creepy, then nothing is.

 

The boom of the music that triggered the chaos in that scene made me jump and scream out a chain of swear words, much to Connie’s amusement. He actually began to laugh hysterically, and ended up missing the film just to laugh at my pain.

 

I could tell that even Connie almost cried when the ghost/demon things grabbed Sasha by the throat and tried to kill her. It was an intensely jumpy moment, and before I could think my actions through I had already cleared the space between myself and Connie. I buried my face in his arm, refusing to look back at the screen. ‘I TOLD YOU SHE WOULD DIE!’

Connie smirked at me, ‘”I love scary movies” my ass.’

 

When the scene ended, I realised how tightly I had been holding Connie. He hadn’t pushed me away, surprisingly, but I knew that I was way too close to someone I had just met. I didn’t want to mess anything up with my potential friend. Only problem was that I already felt like I’d known him forever. I still felt a lingering sense of familiarity around him.

 

Toward the end, I was beginning to dislike Sasha more and more. ‘God, Sasha is _so_ whiny!’

‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ Connie teased. I pulled a face, scowling like a five year old, before taking the pillow in my hands and hitting him firmly over the head. He began to laugh, shielding his precious face with one arm, though I could tell that he was proud of his little joke.

 

Near the end of the movie, I was forced to recoil in utter horror as movie Sasha began coughing and hacking up blood. I wanted to turn to Connie and point out once again that I had predicted her fated death, but I was much too engrossed in the disgusting scene. The worst part was that I felt a horrendous sense of déjà vu at watching someone’s blood spatter over a concrete floor. I had never seen it in real life; only in the haunting world of my panic attacks, so distant from reality.

 

When the movie went off, it was already pitch black outside. The street lamps lining the pavement began to flicker ominously, and for a moment I wanted to scream. But then I reminded myself that it was all fiction, and we were in Connie’s house rather than an insane asylum. Connie had not noticed the flickering street lamps, as he was preoccupied by glaring at the film’s ending in shock horror. I, too, was very confused.

 

‘Wait... what?’

‘I... I don’t know...’ His voice was lowered to a hoarse whisper. Who the hell ends a movie like that?

 

I gulped, glancing warily at my unfamiliar surroundings. ‘Turn on the lights.’

Connie seemed reluctant to move at all, casting a fearful glance into the darkest corners of his bedroom before unfurling from foetal position and tiptoeing over to the light switch.

 

 _Click_. The bulb switched on. I released the tension in my rigid body, beginning to relax. But then the light flickered, simultaneously with the street lamp, and we were plunged into darkness. Gripped with terror, I yanked my knees up to my chest and sought out the comfort of Connie’s pillow. The room seemed so much more scary now, without an ounce of electricity to announce that we were still in the 21 st century.

 

‘What happened?’ The whine escaped my lips, my voice wobbling slightly. I could just about make out Connie’s silhouette from the light of the moon shimmering through the window. He was shaking his head, and I think he shrugged. ‘I don’t know!’ His voice sounded as panicked as I felt.

 

I abandoned the safety of my armadillo-like position and crawled over to the window beside the bed, peering out. There were no lights in the windows of any houses I could see, nor was there the soft glow of any street lamps. I could only come to one conclusion, ‘I think there’s a power cut.’

‘Brilliant.’ Connie drawled, clearly unimpressed. ‘Let’s see if we can switch it back on at the fuse box.’

‘Okay.’ I slipped onto the floor, silencing my footsteps best I could as I walked over to Connie.

 

I felt ridiculous as I heard my pounding heartbeat: it was stupid to think how terrified I was in such a simple situation. Then again, I didn’t suppose Connie would be of much use in the case of an emergency, unless I used him as a human shield. He pried the door open cautiously, proving my theory of him being petrified. As both a gesture of fear and comfort, I placed a hand gently on his shoulder, ‘Go.’ I ushered him out into the corridor.

 

Connie’s  foot pressed into a creaky floorboard. Unaware of such places in the house, I jumped a little and dug my fingertips unintentionally into Connie’s shoulder, relaxing only when he winced in pain.

 

He rested a hand comfortably on the banister and began to lead the way down the stair case. I blindly followed him, unable to see and trusting his guidance to get us through the house. I cursed my luck when my left shin smacked into what I presumed was a plastic box, resulting in a rather large bang.

 

Suddenly, Connie’s hand slipped down to take me sharply by the wrist. I gasped in surprise as he pulled me harshly forward, evidently startled by the noise. ‘Connie!’ I barked, feeling my legs tangle. My centre of gravity shifted dangerously forward, and my body collided with Connie’s. We began to tumble roughly down the stairs – a helpless ball of grunts and groans as we rolled to a painful halt at the bottom.

 

I landed on top of Connie, flinching when I heard him rasp in pain. ‘Ow.’ I remained staring at the floor for a second, taking a moment to recover. Beneath me, I could feel Connie panting and shaking, and I could just about hear his quickened heartbeat.

 

And then, I couldn’t help myself. I began to convulse with hysterical laughter, building to a crescendo until all the air in my lungs was gone. My abdominal muscles were cramping from laughing so much. I was clawing at the air, attempting to stop myself from rolling about on the floor. Apparently my laughter was contagious, as Connie started chuckling too.

 

‘You idiot! I tripped over a box!’ I wiped at the tears streaming down my face.

‘What?’ Connie’s face suddenly dropped. He seemed a little crestfallen.

‘That noise. I tripped over something!’

‘Oh...’ His eyes clouded over in obvious embarrassment.

 

I clambered to my feet, reaching out a hand to pull him up, ‘Come on.’ I giggled, reliving the moment in a brief second.

Connie smiled up at me, gratefully taking my hand as I pulled him up.

 

‘The fuse box is this way,’ Connie was trying to avoid the humiliation of the events, I know. He shook himself from head to toe, strolling away through the corridor. I watched him on his journey, listening in disappointment as my stomach let out a loud growl.

 

I could still see Connie at the end of the corridor, disappearing into a small room. I could not spot what exactly was in there, though I assumed the fuse box was pinned to the wall somewhere.

My stomach growled again and I decided it was best to go straight to the kitchen to halt my desperate hunger, rather than tell Connie where I was going. Shrugging nonchalantly, I tiptoed into the kitchen area, faced with a daunting number of cupboard and drawers.

 

It would take _forever_ to find any food. Naturally, I went straight to the fridge, welcoming the lingering coolness despite the lack of power inside. With no fridge light, I had to squint through the darkness to make out any food, but I was down-heartened to find that there was nothing of interest in there. So, like a foraging bear right before hibernating, I started scavenging through all the cupboards. Eventually, I located some chocolate chip cookies and licked my lips in delight. _Cookies and milk_. The whole kitchen was like a simple memory game, and I found the location of the glasses I had accidentally stumbled across during my food search in no time. The milk was obviously kept in the fridge, and within one minute I was settled at the island counter with my biscuits and milk.

 

As I predicted, they were delicious, complemented tremendously by the milk. Halfway through my snack, the kitchen lights were turned on: Connie had been successful in his mission. I had drained my glass of milk pretty quickly, and was debating getting a refill when I heard a voice drifting gently down the corridor.

 

‘Please tell me the demons didn’t get you.’ Connie’s voice was half whisper, half groan. I stifled a laugh, hoping he wasn’t genuinely serious. _If I hide, maybe I can scare him_. My troublesome side took over, piloting me in the direction of pranking Connie. I was grinning at  the thought of my plan when I accidentally knocked my glass off the countertop. It toppled to the floor, smashing into little pieces with a startling noise. ‘Shit!’ I hissed under my breath, dropping to my knees and beginning to gather the glass up with my bare hands. I was cautious, wary of cutting myself on the sharp edges.

 

I heard Connie’s first footstep into the room, and popped up from behind the surface just to see his surprised face. For half a second, he looked as though he might have a heart attack. ‘Sorry!’ I shot him a warm smile, accompanied by a gentle shrug, ‘I got hungry.’

Connie’s hand clutched at the rough placement of his heart as he sighed, beginning to smile a little.

 

‘What the hell was that noise?’ He then asked.

I shuffled uncomfortably, ‘I smashed a glass.’

‘Jesus, Sash, you scared the shit outta me.’ He actually seemed concerned for my safety. It was the first time I had actually _heard_ him call me “Sash,” and I liked that he had given me a fond nickname. It made me feel... special I guess, as cliché as that sounds. He was my first real friend in this town. Or in any town, for that matter.

 

I covered my delight with a grandiose pout and a mocking insult, _‘Awwwh!_ Is little Connie _scaaaarrrred_?’

‘No!’ His reply was a little too snappy and defiant, giving away his true feelings. I cocked my head, raising my eyebrows and smirking, ‘Suuuure.’  

 

**

 

The clock had just struck 11pm when it was time for me to leave. I didn’t really want to go, in all honesty. I enjoyed Connie’s company. And I was scared that, when I was alone, I would be gripped by more panic and loneliness. I dreaded being alone.

 

I believed that if I gave Connie a hug, and if he hugged me back, I would feel a longer-lasting sense of security. I felt awkward initiating the situation, but he responded immediately by wrapping his arms tightly around me. It was the most comfortable hug I had ever experienced, warm and filled with security. It relieved some of my anxiety.

 

With that over, I stepped into the freezing night air and half-jogged most of the way home in hope of avoiding any demons roaming the streets. My house was warmer, in reality, but it felt just as cold as the outside. Nobody was home, and I was still all alone.

 

Once in my bed, I began to fear the panic attacks a little more. However, my mind drifted slowly away to relive the events of the entire night, and I felt more comfortable. Sleep took me soon enough.

 

Thanks to Connie, I didn’t have the panic attacks that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This killed me to write because honestly I'm too excited for the next chapter. I can't wait to write it, I have so many ideas.


	3. Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the classic question as old as time itself... "Do I have feelings for my best friend?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click here for Connie's POV
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1123333/chapters/2679118

Last period on a Friday was not necessarily a good time to remember that I had a huge project due in the following week. The worst part was that the project was for food technology; for _Mr Rivaille’s_ class. As handsome as that man was, he sure was strict. I didn’t dare to cross him, since I’d seen Connie and Jean get their asses kicked so many times. The one problem I had with getting the project done over the weekend is that I had no idea where to begin with it. Although, I _did_ know somebody else who would be skipping out on homework until the last minute.

 

‘Connie, I really need your help.’ I didn’t waste my time with any needless greetings or friendly gestures. Slamming my hands on the table was enough to catch his attention.

‘What’s up, Sash?’ He asked, glancing up at me from his seat.

‘You know that homework from Rivaille?’

‘I haven’t done it.’

‘Can I–’ I had barely begun my sentence before I realised what he had just said. My hope was instantly shattered. ‘Wait, what?’

‘I told you,’ Connie chuckled – he actually looked proud of himself – ‘I don’t do homework.’ In hindsight, I had been naive to assume that Connie, of all people, would have any idea what he was doing. I hadn’t expected him to have a complete project, but some ideas would have been appreciated. ‘Did you think I was kidding?’

‘But he’ll _murder_ us.’ I barked.

Connie tilted his head slightly and grimaced, ‘Yeeeeaaaah.’ The word came out as a long, dejected sigh.

 

I thinned my lips into a tight line, screwing up my face and racking my brains for a solution. I should really do my homework sooner. Connie stared at my thoughtful expression, appearing as though he was trying to read my mind. That’s when the light bulb in my head switched on. I snapped my fingers together and pointed toward Connie, ‘Ah-ha!’

‘What?’

‘Come over to my house later and we’ll both help each other with our projects. Agreed?’

‘Sure. I’ll ask my parents.’ There was barely any hesitation from Connie before he answered.

‘Great!’ A surge of relief swept through me at that. Not only would I get this project done, but doing it with Connie would be much more fun than sitting alone in my room.

 

With that I decided to return to my own desk. As I spun around, I noticed Jean and Marco right behind me. I almost jumped in fright, as their appearance seemed almost suspicious. The two of them grinned at me; a painting of utter guilt (though for what, I didn’t know). I narrowed my eyes briefly at them before turning to walk away, not throwing a glance back even when I heard Jean yelp in pain.

 

‘You got another date with baldy?’ It was obviously the teasing voice of Ymir that I heard. I turned to find her with her arm snaked behind Christa’s shoulders; the blonde girl gazing up at me with her angelic blue eyes. I shrugged, ‘It’s not a “date,” we’re just doing homework.’

‘Yeah, yeah, but I’m gonna be saying I told you so.’

 

**

 

Ymir’s words had echoed in my mind all day. It wasn’t a date, was it? Did Connie think it was? I hadn’t intended for it to be that way.

By the time three o’clock rolled around, my anxiety had built up. The most frustrating part was that I failed to understand why I was nervous. After all, I had no reason to be. It was only Connie.

 

It was pretty cold outside, and I could feel the descent of winter on the horizon. Connie was walking beside me, hands dug deeply into his pockets as he stared at the pavement. I glanced over at him, and paused for a few moments while I watched him blowing clouds of smoke into the freezing air. I began to giggle, ‘It looks like you’re smoking.’

His head snapped up to look me in the eye, ‘Hey! I don’t smoke.’

I shrugged, my lips forming a wry smile, ‘Hm, I dunno... You look like the kind of skinhead who’d be smoking weed.’

For a moment, he looked quite offended. I was about to take it back, but he suddenly cut me off with the words, ‘4:20 blaze it.’ Oh, that was unexpected...

‘Well, you ain’t smoking anything in _my_ house.’

 

We were barely there before I felt my stomach beginning to growl. I always get hungry when I get in from school. It’s habitual. As we entered, I felt Connie judging everything in my house, sizing it up. I was only slightly self-conscious of my environment; that was probably how Connie felt when I glanced at every single object in his home.

 

I tried to ignore him, and instead walked straight over to the fridge, hurriedly pinning my coat on a hanger by the door. Connie copied me.

‘You want anything?’ I asked.

‘What have you got?’

I peered into the fridge, bobbing up and down to get a good view of all the shelves. ‘Hmmm...’ my eyes flitted over and landed on a delightful cheesecake, looking deliciously creamy with fresh strawberry jam swirled into the top. My mouth began to water as I remembered its delicate blend of biscuit crumbs and creamy cheese from my previous encounter.

‘Cheesecake?’ Connie repeated, his voice laced with notes of hunger and excitement, ‘I feel good about cheesecake.’

‘Good.’ I took the cake from the fridge, leaving it on its glass tray, and set it down on the counter. I grabbed a cake slicer and two plates and began to dish it out as evenly as I could.

 

‘We should probably eat it upstairs, so we can start work on the project.’ I suggested, starting toward my room without another word. I immediately went over to the desk and rested my cheesecake on the surface, allowing Connie a chance to take in every aspect of my room. His eyes swept a wide arc around each and every wall. After a mere few seconds, I was irritated by the silence between us.

 

‘So we need to get started on this project,’ I dropped my bag from my shoulder and it hit the floor with a thud. ‘Turn on the computer, and you can start the research.’

‘What are you gonna do?’ He inquired.

‘Get started on the leaflet creation.’

The project was some crap about healthy eating and stuff, which I thought was ironic considering that we were stuffing dessert food down our throat while we did it.

 

Connie shuffled over to the PC and stooped down to reach the power button. He hadn’t sat down yet, and stood hunched over the keyboard.

‘Password.’ He called out. I leapt across the room to his side and glared at him. He took the hint and turned away rather grudgingly. When he turned back, one eyebrow raised, he seemed almost judging. I shrugged awkwardly, ‘I don’t like people knowing my passwords.’

 

With Connie occupying my desk space, I sat on the floor to make the leaflet. It was easy work; plenty of drawing and colouring. I just needed to wait for Connie’s research, though I assumed we’d make up most of the statistics, anyway. I decided to neatly draw the food pyramid on the front cover, to advertise our creation. But not long after I had finished the cheesecake, I realised that I was still hungry. _Very_ hungry.

 

It was during the time I was doodling a girl eating an apple in the bottom corner beneath the pyramid that I began to get sick of my rumbling stomach. ‘Man, all this thought about food is making me hungry,’ I moaned.

‘We’ve barely done anything,’ he sounded incredulous.

‘Who cares. D’ya want some food?’ My question was answered by a low rumble from Connie’s stomach. He glanced over my head at the pink clock on the wall, and nodded. I screwed up my face, ‘I can’t really be bothered to cook, though. Is baked potato okay?’

After he gave me the nod, I pushed myself onto my feet and left through the door.

 

My preparations were hardly difficult: pricking two potatoes with forks and tossing them into the oven (I should’ve preheated it, I know), and then switching it on. It took me barely two minutes, after which I returned upstairs.

 

I opened the door to my room to find Connie, edging toward my bedside drawer. I had no idea what he was doing, but I did know that I didn’t like people touching my stuff. _Especially_ what was in that drawer ‘Hey!’ I announced my presence. He turned to me, with a picture of guilt painted all over his face. His eyes were wide, like a deer caught in head lights. He opened his mouth, probably about to ask how long I’d been standing there, or make a lame excuse.

Instead of scolding him outright, I stepped into the room and smacked him over the head with a pillow. _‘Never_ go into a girl’s drawer.’

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, ‘Why not? What the hell do you have in there?’

I shrugged, ‘For all you know, it’s a nuclear weapon to destroy the entire world.’

His expression was almost leering, ‘Or....?’

‘Shush. _Never_ do that again.’

‘But–‘

He didn’t get a chance to argue, since I whacked him in the face with the pillow again, ‘Never!’

 

I spotted the mischievous glint in his eye before he made his move. ‘Oh I see. Two can play at that game.’ Still, I didn’t quite have time to react before my spare pillow was planted right in the centre of my forehead. I scowled at him harshly, ‘Oh hell no.’ I stooped and picked up my discarded pillow, swinging it at high speed and aiming to hit him on the side of his bald head. Somehow, he blocked my attack. I was bristling with annoyance when he doubled over with laughter: I refused to let him beat me. While he was down, I hit him as hard as I could on the back.

 

His laughter halted and he froze, before lunging forward at me. I made sure I had my feet planted firmly on the ground. As soon as he realised that he could not rugby tackle me to the floor and pulled away, I launched a kick at his shins, perfectly poised with pointed toes. He leapt back in startled fright, making an absolutely indescribable noise that will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. I couldn’t help but explode into hysterical laughter, so my next hit was much weaker than the last.

 

Connie then burst out laughing, too, which only egged me on. We both felt the tears forming in our eyes as we struggled to draw breaths into our lungs between chuckles. My abs were aching and I could barely see through the tears.

 

‘Call it a draw?’ Connie offered, beginning to regain his stability.

‘So soon? No way, Springer.’ I attacked him again, this time successfully hitting his jaw. He barely flinched, instead using my attack to propel him towards me, hitting me on the waist.

 

If Connie was using his full strength, then he really did hit like a girl. But honestly, I couldn’t tell whether he was holding back because he was nice. Maybe because he liked me. Like, _liked_ me. On the other hand, perhaps it was a tactical manouevre; I hit with full strength, and I seemed to be getting tired much quicker than he was.

 

Ten minutes later, with a stunning lack of air in my lungs and strength remaining in my arms, I decided it was time to finish the fight. My previously strategic advances with the pillow were all discarded, along with my weapon, and replaced with brute force as I charged toward him. I saw a brief flash of terror on his face when he began to teeter and fall to the floor. In the minuscule time frame it took to wrap my arms around his waist and push him to the ground, I regretted my decision as I realised I was going down with him. Connie landed on his back with a painful-sounding thud; my body weight was still against him, forcing me to flop down right on top of his body. He erupted into a fit of laughter despite the unavoidable pain he must have felt. I did, too, drawing my knees up alongside his arms as I lowered my head to hide my snickering. I felt like a champion.

 

Both of us seemed to reach a synchronous realisation. My first thought: _Why am I straddling Connie?_ I glanced down at him with slightly widened eyes, fearing I looked like a frightened rabbit for a second. My gaze flitted over every one of his features, trying to read his expression. It was impossible. Whatever he was thinking, whether he wanted me to get off him or wanted to get in my pants, he was concealing it well. As soon as the thought of Connie actually wanting to get in my pants had slipped into my mind, it was difficult to remove it. I could feel a hot flush rising in my cheeks. _Uh-oh_. For a brief second, I wondered if he had noticed. _Of course he’s noticed. He’s staring right at me._

 

And that’s when it happened for the first time. I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him. To just lean down, and kiss him. He liked me, right? So he wouldn’t mind. In barely a second, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. What it would be like to feel his lips against mine. I wondered how he would respond. How he would hold my face in his hands...

I couldn’t stop myself. Before I had time to process the snowstorm of information whipping through my mind, I was already leaning forward. Towards him. Palms flat on the floor on either side of his head, I moved slowly. Like I had all the time in the world. And it felt like I did. My lips subconsciously parted–

 

A loud, repetitive alarm rang through the house. I froze in shock. _The oven_! I thought in a mixture of relief, dismay and irritation. ‘The potatoes!’ I used my hands to push me up off the floor, away from Connie, and rolled onto the floor. I spun on my heels and darted out of the door as fast as I could.

 

My mouth had run dry and my heart was pounding. I could feel the blood rushing in my ears. I, Sasha Braus, had just almost kissed my best friend, Connie Springer. By the time I had reached the kitchen, my palms were beginning to sweat. My breathing was uneven, and even I was unsure as to whether it was from my race downstairs or from adrenaline due to my almost-kiss with Connie.

 

I quietened the oven with the push of a button. The silence was greatly welcomed. I leaned against the kitchen counter and used both hands to push my fringe back over my head, releasing a long breath through my teeth. My eyes closed a little. _Breathe. Relax. Stay calm._ I spent at least ten seconds frozen there, slowing my breathing and matching my heartbeat to the ticking of the kitchen clock.

 

Then I motivated myself into movement, going through the simple actions of taking the potatoes out of the oven, preparing the plates, warming the tin of beans, grating the cheese.

 

While I worked, I mulled over the acceptable boundaries of best-friendship. Now, I wasn’t exactly the height of popularity, and maintaining friendships was certainly not one of my best talents. However, I was still fairly sure that kissing your best friend is not something that is viewed as totally normal.

 

_But I want to kiss him_... As soon as I recognised that this one thought was prominent in my mind, I shook my head to loosen myself up. ‘Get a grip, Sash...’ I whispered to myself under my breath. _But he’s cute_. I froze in shock, mid-way through grating a block of cheddar cheese. _Wait, what?_ The thought that Connie was cute had never entered the conscious segment of my brain, and it shocked me when it did. I was unsuspecting that I even possessed such thoughts. _Friends can find other friends cute, right? Isn’t it a friend’s job to recognise the positive attributes of their other friends? So it’s okay, right?_

 

Just as I was arranging all the food on the plates, it occurred to me that I would have to go back upstairs. I would have to face him again. All the possible scenarios ran through my head. Best case: we got on with our homework and nothing would be awkward. Worst case: he would pick up where we left off, kiss me, and I would hate it and we would fall out and never speak to each other again and I would have nobody... or was that exaggerating?

 

Taking a long, deep breath, I took both plates into my hands and began to make my way slowly up the staircase. _Stay calm. It will all be okay._ I took another deep, steadying breath right outside the door, before I used my hip to push it open.

 

It took less than a moment to sweep my eyes around the room. I noticed that Connie had arranged my pillows neatly back on the bed. As if it had never happened. I couldn’t help but feel a deep sinking feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t quite place the emotion that it belonged to. Regret? Disappointment?

 

I presented him with a warm smile – a weak attempt to lighten the mood – and passed his meal over to him. ‘One serving of baked potato, beans and cheese.’ I slipped the plate onto the desk. He briefly glanced up at me through the corner of his eye and muttered a quiet, ‘Thanks.’

I crept back over my bed and ate my own meal in my lap. At first, I didn’t take a bite. I watched and waited for Connie to take his first mouthful, wondering if I had overdone the potato. His face lit up as he chewed, and a smile spread across his face. It caught on, and I smiled too, ‘Good?’

‘From now on, I shall call you Potato Girl.’ He nodded enthusiastically, proud at his choice of nicknames. I laughed, wondering whether it was payback for calling him “Aang.” ‘I kinda like that name.’

 

I could feel the atmosphere in the room slipping into another difficult silence. Desperate to stop it, I flicked my wrist in his direction, ‘Come on, do some work.’

He pulled an expression of mock irritation, ‘Excuse me, I was doing research while you were downstairs grating cheese!’

I shrugged nonchalantly, ‘I have to be a good hostess, as well as completing the project.’

He shot me an eye roll and turned back to the computer.

 

Thick, tense awkwardness descended upon my room, and though I desperately tried to ignore it, it just wouldn’t go away. And the more I allowed myself to be susceptible to the tension, the more I began to think about what would have happened if I went through with the kiss. It felt like the atmosphere was stretched tighter than a drum; the slightest thing could cause it to contort and snap. Panic was rising slightly in my throat. I found that any degree of awkwardness or tension caused me to feel this way. _Oh shit_. I thought. If I lapsed into a panic attack right now, I’d have to tell Connie everything. He’d think I was so weird. It might even be more awkward than kissing him. I wasn’t ready for that. I prayed that he didn’t notice, but he never even turned to look at me.

 

_Breathe. Relax. Stay calm._ I stared at my food intently, trying to think of anything but my mind.

 

_Breathe. Relax. Stay calm._ Perhaps more drawing would help. I attempted to focus on the leaflet. Listening to the sound of the pencil scratching on the paper was very relieving. Drawing was one of my favourite hobbies: I had a sketch book in the bedside drawer of my desk filled with drawings. I drew whatever came to my mind, and sometimes even I was confused by the result. That’s why I didn’t want Connie to look in the drawer. Nobody had ever seen that sketch book before.

 

At six o’clock, Connie printed out the research and joined me on the floor, picking up some pencils and joining in with the leaflet design. I was the one who had to write all the information, since my writing was the neatest. On the other hand, Connie’s handwriting looked like a spider had thrown up its webbing on the page. Conversation thankfully resumed as normal, and we both brushed the sexual tension aside with light-hearted small talk.

 

Darkness fell on the house, and we switched the fairy lights on in my bedroom, along with the main light. Shadows were strewn across the floor and the bed, obscuring our full view of the colours we were using and the lines we were making. But I had calmed down, and that was all that mattered.

 

The sound of the pencil scratches was still soothing, and the monotonous actions were so gentle, and the sound of Connie’s breathing beside me was steady, and calming...

 

Before I knew it, my eyelids were drooping. My pencil strokes became longer, and I could barely keep within the lines. Connie’s tiredness was apparent, too. We were both sleepy, and we could feel it in the air. The silence was lulling, and slowly, softly, I fell to sleep.

 

**

 

‘Sash. Sash.’ I heard Connie’s familiar voice floating to me in my subconscious. I stirred very slightly, but kept my eyes glued firmly shut, ‘What?’

‘We fell asleep.’ He informed me. I scowled a little, annoyed at the disturbance, ‘Thanks, Sherlock.’ I rolled over again, feeling my body ache with dull grogginess.

 

‘ _Sasha_.’ He whined.

‘No.’ I responded bluntly, my voice muffled by the crumpled bed sheets.

‘I have to go home.’

‘Good. Get out of my house.’

I heard him snort with laughter, ‘Sasha, I’m serious. Give me food before I go.’

 

Though I barely had energy, I managed to summon enough strength to hit Connie with a pillow. My eyes were still closed and my aim was off, not to mention that my strength was barely present. I felt the pillow stop abruptly as he caught it between his hands, ‘Don’t start this again.’

 

I took a sharp breath in, filling my lungs with air and filling my head with motivation. ‘Alright, alright.’ I rubbed at my eyes with the backs of my hands, thankful for the fact that I hadn’t been wearing make-up. ‘Breakfast time.’ With eyes still half-closed and a frown stretched across my lips, I began to make my way out of the room.

 

‘Let me just call my mum first,’ Connie called after me. I peered into my parents’ bedroom. It was empty and the double bed was still perfectly made. _Hmm..._  I made my way down the stairs, just catching the first few murmured words of conversation between Connie and the voice on the phone before I entered the kitchen. My bare feet pattered across the floor as I crossed to the fridge, wondering what to make. Full English seemed like an excellent idea: bacon, fried eggs, toast... I almost knew that Connie would love it.

 

Preparation of food was second nature to me, and I could go through the motions with barely a thought paid to them. So my mind wandered... And that’s exactly when it occurred to me. I had spent a good half an hour trying to suppress a panic attack that never came. Usually, if I managed to successfully prevent one, I would suffer nightmares as a side effect. But last night I had slept peacefully. Why?

 

The answer: Connie. His calm breathing beside me all night. His cheery smile and lame jokes. Every time he made a pun I wanted to hit him because of how bad it was, but it never failed to make me smile. His light presence and easy-going nature. Connie had stopped the panic attack.

 

I was frying the bacon in a pan when I totally zoned out. My thoughts were scattered and focusing on other things. Specifically, focusing on Connie. I failed to realise whether I liked him or not, and whether I did actually want to kiss him. Maybe I did. Maybe I should have.

 

The sound of him entering the kitchen disturbed my thoughts. I leapt back into life, panicking about whether I’d burnt the bacon (I hadn’t, might I add).

‘My parents are still out,’ I told him, scrambling for the first words of conversation: I didn’t want him to know that I’d been dazed out thinking about his lips. ‘Something must’ve gone down at the police station.

 

‘Well, my parents are out too,’ he sighed, ‘So I can’t even get into my house.’

I furrowed my eyebrows, ‘Oh... What are you going to do for the rest of the day, then?’

‘I have some money in my school bag, so I’ll probably just chill in town all day.’

‘Mind if I come?’ I blurted the question before I had chance to evaluate it.

‘No, not at all.’ He replied cheerily. He even seemed happy about it.

 

Once again, Connie’s eyes lit up when he took the first bite of the Full English, scooping every scrap of food he could onto his fork. ‘Not bad, Potato Girl.’ He smirked. I can’t deny that I liked the fact that he already had a nickname for me. Even if it was ridiculous. I loved it.

‘Thanks, Aang,’ I smiled in reply.

 

Both of us were tired and hungry, so we ate in silence. I felt Connie’s eyes on me for the duration of breakfast, and that stirred the thoughts in my mind again. _Do I like him?_ I wanted to look up and meet his gaze, but I feared that I would blush.

 

After breakfast, I didn’t hesitate to rush upstairs and leave Connie milling about in the kitchen. I tried not to spend too long deciding on an outfit, so that Connie wouldn’t be left alone for too long. But I still made my best efforts to look good, even applying a lick of mascara to my eyelashes.

 

I raced back downstairs and grabbed a notepad and a piece of paper: _Hi guys, I’ve just gone into town. Be back soon, Sash xxxx :)_

My message to my parents was scrawled haphazardly across the paper on a diagonal. I took a few notes of cash from a drawer and my keys from the counter, giving Connie the nod to leave. I wondered if he was uncomfortable, still wearing his clothes from yesterday, but he didn’t seem to mind.

 

We slinked out of the door and into the freezing air. It was a crisp, perfect autumn day, with a clear, cloudless blue sky and a bright sun. It was cold enough to dig my hands in the pockets of my coat.

 

Our first stop was Starbucks, where Connie offered to buy my coffee for me. To me, that was the kind of overcomplicated, selfless accommodation that I failed to understand. I declined his offer, sweet as it was, and purchased a salted caramel hot chocolate on my own. He allowed me to choose the seating – I chose a small bistro table in the corner of the cafe with elevated chairs. We took our seats, our fingers interlaced around the warm ceramics of our individual mugs, and began to watch as an array of people wandered in and out of the coffee shop. The hot chocolate was sweet and syrupy, warming and soft. Most of the syrup had sunk the bottom, though, and I found myself gagging as I was overwhelmed by sickly sugar at the last drop.

 

After our small stop, we walked into the main section of town, littered with high street shops. Connie seemed reluctant, but I managed to drag him in and out of many clothes shops. I failed to persuade him to buy anything (despite accepting the job of personal fashion advisor) and instead bought a few cute tops for myself.

 

Connie’s easiness relaxed me entirely. I barely paid a thought to panic attacks or nightmares. Although I could tell that helping me shop for clothes was not on his list of ideal plans for the weekend, I could see that he was happy just to not be wandering around town alone all day. And hey, what are friends for?

 

5pm came much too fast. I didn’t want to leave him, and I didn’t want him to leave me. I smiled warmly and hugged him. ‘Thanks.’ I muttered in his ear. _Thanks for calming me down. Thanks for stopping my panic attacks. Thanks for being there._

He assumed I meant “thanks for spending the day with me.” He didn’t understand the weight of that one simple word.

 

My mind was blank the entire way home. Not a single thought. I stepped up to the front door of my house, perplexed when the door resisted against my weight. It was still locked. Frowning, I fished my keys out of my pocket.

 

‘Hello?’ I called as soon as I entered. The place had a feeling of emptiness about it. The note I had written was still on the kitchen counter, untouched. I slid it into my palm and screwed it up, tossing it in the bin. _Where are my parents?_ My next thought was to check my phone.

 

**_1 unread message._ **

****

**_From: Mum_ **

**_Sorry sweetie, we won’t be home for a while... your dad’s in hospital. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry. I’ll be back home tomorrow morning. I love you xx_ **

****

_Yes, because saying I love you makes it all better_ I thought bitterly. Then I sighed, _She’s only trying to make me feel better_. I pushed my phone back into my pocket, wondering whether my dad was okay, and wondering what was wrong with him. My heart began to beat a little bit faster as I went through all the possibilities. _Breathe. Relax. Stay calm._

 

I shook my head rid of all the evil thoughts, walking up the stairs and taking a moment on the edge of my bed to calm myself. _Breathe. Relax. Stay calm_. After taking another deep inhalation, I took my sketching utensils out of my bedside drawer and started to sketch. It allowed my mind to wander, and before I knew it I barely even knew what I was drawing anymore. There was no conscious stream of thought running through my head.

 

By the time it turned half past ten, I had finished. Slowly, my subconscious faded and my conscious thought returned. I took a metaphorical step back to view my work, and what I saw shook me to my very core.

 

It was quite abstract, with messy detailing obscuring the main view of the artwork. Too many lines, thick and black. Aggressive.  The drawing was screaming out of the page. Violent. The main attraction was horrifying; bodies. Multiple bodies, strewn across the vague background. Each form was basically human, but each one had something wrong. A missing limb, a blood-covered torso, a missing half of its face. Every person, though their clothes were torn and barely recognisable, seemed to be wearing something similar; a uniform, perhaps? My jaw dropped open as I scanned it. I craned my neck, taking a closer peek. That’s when I noticed the most horrific detail. I could recognise them. A mental block stopped me from pinpointing their faces, but I knew that they were people in my life.

 

_Why on earth had I drawn that? Death..._ My heart was racing. Beating fast and threatening to burst out of my chest. _Is it because of dad? Is he okay?_ The pencil I was holding in my hand clattered to the floor; my now empty hand shot up to my mouth as a sob escaped past my lips.

 

_Breathe. Relax. Stay calm._ I was breathing. Only not steadily, not normally. Each breath was ragged, feeling like needles were pelting the back of my throat. Uneven, like I was drowning in ice water. Sharp, shallow. I was hyperventilating.

 

_Breathe. Relax. Stay calm_. The lack of oxygen to my brain was disrupting the pattern of my heart even further. It was drumming so hard on my ribcage that it caused pain. I felt as though I was being stabbed, the knife twisting into my skin. The rest of my body was tingling, trembling, and I could feel myself becoming coated in a cold sweat. I felt like I was about to throw up.

 

_Breathe. Relax. Stay calm_. Instinctively, I drew my legs tightly up to my chest. Tears started to fall from my eyes; a waterfall. Unstoppable. The images of my drawing raced through my mind, only they were more vivid. Less sketched, more real. More like a memory, than a figment of my imagination. The sketch book fell away from my lap, and I left it discarded on the floor.

 

_Breathe. Relax. Stay calm_. I was trembling more. Crying. Sweating. Shaking. Hurting. My mouth was dry, and I was sure that I was about to throw up. The pain in my chest was worsening. My palm muffled the sobs coming from my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears, praying it would go away.

 

_If only I had Connie_. It was the first conscious thought that I had during the attack. I was still trembling, but less so. The images of death and torn limbs were replaced. His easy smile. His amber eyes. His steady breath. His simple nature. His stupid puns. The way he hugs me. Him.

 

Slowly, I began to shake less and less. The tears were still flowing freely, and the pain in my chest lingered. I still felt sick to my core. But I stopped sweating, and the pins-and-needles feeling disappeared. And that’s when I knew I needed him.

 

My mind was barely functioning on an intellectual level. There was no time to think things through. I simply pushed myself to my feet and darted down the stairs, slipped on my shoes, pulled a coat over my shoulders. And I was out. I was making my way to Connie’s house.

 

It was only when I stopped outside his house that I realised doing this would mean talking to his parents, and explaining things to him. Maybe it was a stupid idea. Maybe I should have turned around right there and walked home. But I didn’t. I went through with it. I knocked on that door and I waited. It’s crazy what fear can do to a person.

 

Connie’s mum seemed shocked when she answered the door. I sniffled and looked up at her, with a few tears still rolling from my eyes. She didn’t know what to say to me: I was just a crying stranger on her doorstep. Hurriedly, I explained that I was Connie’s friend. She invited me inside and immediately started acting more motherly. She sat me down on a barstool at the kitchen island, speaking in hushed, soothing tones and looking at me with a big, sympathetic gaze.

 

‘Where were your parents?’ She asked me. I could tell she was uncomfortable, and I hated myself for causing trouble. I looked down at my feet, ‘My dad’s in hospital and my mum is with him.’

 

She never asked what had happened to me. I think she knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable telling her. Or she just assumed I was worried about my dad. ‘Oh...’ She rested a hand delicately between my shoulder blades, offering a comforting human presence to calm me down. ‘Connie is just upstairs. I’ll get him for you.’

 

‘Connie!’ She called loudly. I felt a growing sense of dread as my stomach knotted itself. I heard footsteps pounding down the stairs and then I saw Connie appear in the doorway. My eyes were still glued to the kitchen surface. I didn’t want him to see my face. _This was a bad idea_.

 

‘Connie... Why don’t you... um... take Sasha upstairs. I’ll bring up some water.’ His mother really was uncomfortable with this situation, but I could tell she was doing her best. She hoped Connie would handle me better than she could.

 

I felt Connie’s fingers stretch around my arm, gently leading me away. I allowed him to guide me, keeping my eyes firmly pointing downward. He was looking at me, I could tell. But he couldn’t see.

 

He didn’t say anything as he led me up the stairs to his room. The very stairs where we had stumbled and landed in a laughing heap at the bottom. It was a happy memory, and I briefly attempted a weak smile despite my tears. I sniffled again, then, and continued to sob quietly. He opened the door for me, and I instantly sat down on his bed. I had withdrawn into myself, a broken shell of a human being. For a moment, Connie didn’t move.

 

‘Sash...’ His voice was a hoarse whisper. It sounded weak, and apologetic. What was he sorry for? It wasn’t his fault. Deep down, I knew it was actually sympathy. He felt sorry for me. Ironically, that’s what I had been most afraid of. I wanted support, not somebody to feel sorry for me.

‘Don’t.’ I spat angrily.

I sensed him lean away from me in surprise. _No. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s just trying to help_. I looked up at him, revealing my face to him. His lips thinned out into a line, I could tell he was biting back a sympathetic look.

 

‘What’s wrong?’ His second attempt was less patronising.

I knew that as soon as I spoke, I would cry. _Breathe. Relax. Stay calm_. I took a deep, steadying breath. ‘My parents never came home...’ My voice cracked, and I had to take another breath, ‘I got a text from my mum. She said that dad’s in hospital. But that’s all I know. I wouldn’t be too worried, usually. She’d tell me if it was something serious. But I got lonely at home, and I should never really be left alone with my thoughts.’ I immediately regretted saying so much. It was stupid of me. It left me vulnerable.

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, before he finally stepped over to me. His arms were stretched out to tell me that he was at a loss for words. I turned away from him, and he sat down beside me.

 

I was hyperaware of his presence, and it took an incredible amount of self restraint not to curl up in his lap like a helpless puppy. I craved some form of contact from another human, from him. I needed it now. Cautiously, I slid my hand over to meet his. He responded, linking his hands together with mine. We avoided one another’s gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Connie,’ I whispered.

‘For what?’ He sounded sincere.

‘Showing up here... like this.’

‘Don’t be sorry for that. I’m your friend and I’m here for you.’

‘Thanks. I don’t really have many friends.’

‘What about Ymir, and Christa... And Mikasa?’

I shrugged, ‘Well... Christa’s nice, but we don’t really click. Mikasa is okay, too, but she spends most of her time with that other boy. And I don’t really like Ymir.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘She can be pretty hard to handle.’

 

Connie’s mum pushed her way into the room then, placing two glasses of water beside the bed. Connie kept a tight, reassuring grip of my hand, gently squeezing my fingers. She handed a folded pair of pyjamas to me, clearly a spare pair of her own, ‘Here, Sasha, take these. You can spend the night here.’

I was startled by the offer, and felt awkward for causing all the hassle, ‘Not it’s okay–’

She waved her hand at me, ‘No,’ her tone was assertive, ‘You shouldn’t be left home alone at a time like this. You deserve some company. And I know you’ve already slept in the same room together, anyway.’

‘Thanks.’ I muttered weakly, reluctantly taking the pyjamas.

 

I moved away and into the bathroom, locking the door. My breathing was slow again, now, and my heart rate was almost normal. I avoided the bathroom mirror at all costs, looking down at myself while I changed. I felt awkward in the unfamiliar clothes. I hated myself for thinking going to Connie’s so spontaneously was a good idea. Before I left, I forced myself to take a look in the mirror. The mascara had run down my face, leaving black streaks over my skin. I wiped it away with a splash of cold water, detesting the hideous expression and puffy eyes that looked back at me.

 

When I returned to Connie, there was a blow-up mattress on the floor. Connie offered the bed to me, and I didn’t want to refuse his kind gesture. I curled up under the sheets. They smelled of Connie, and though they felt unfamiliar I still felt comfortable.

 

‘Connie?’ I broke the silence after a few minutes.

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you know what it’s like to be lonely? Like me?’ I was building up to something more, and it was making my heart pound.

‘No. I don’t.’

‘It sucks. Most of the time I just need a hug.’

 

There was a momentary lag while he thought, while he considered my subtle offer. Wordlessly, he stood up and wrapped his arms over my shoulders. I hugged him back, settling into the easiness he always offered me. I could barely hold myself back as I rolled him onto the bed with me. He didn’t at all resist, allowing me to flip him onto his back beside me. He let out a small chuckle.

 

Although it was reassuring to have his arm brushing against mine, I was still sad. I still felt empty. I still ached. ‘I’m such a fucking mess.’ I couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of my mouth.

‘Noooo.’ The word was drawn out.

 

‘Sash, is there something you’re not telling me?’ He asked. He knew. Maybe he didn’t know everything. But he knew.

‘I can’t.’ I whimpered.

‘What?’

I said nothing, instead just rolling over.

 

He understood.

‘Goodnight,’ the word floated out on a sigh.

‘Night,’ he replied. He began to slide back toward the air mattress. My hand shot out of the sheets and grabbed his wrist. I pulled him back toward me, feeling my heart speed up again. ‘Don’t go.’

 

Connie gave me a deep sigh, one that said more than words ever could. ‘I won’t.’ He shuffled closer to me and put an arm behind my shoulders. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. It was heavy. He was aware of me just as I was aware of him. But after a few moments, it slowed again. Relaxed. I felt the rise and fall of his chest, and synchronised my breathing with his.

 

I knew I wouldn’t have another panic attack again that night.

 

I was comfy. I was safe. I was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, OTP feels...  
> Honestly, I was worried about writing this chapter in Sasha's POV, but I think it turned out okay

**Author's Note:**

> Argh this took me ages!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> I don't think it's as good as Connie's POV, either, but thanks for reading nonetheless!


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